


Stories of the Second Self: Well of Souls

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [108]
Category: National Guard - Fandom, Urban Fantasy - Fandom, clandestine operations - Fandom, lockdown - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22620607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: As per his agreement, Papa Delane Henry set off for Columbus, Ohio. As military forces ringed the city, Delane has to enter to establish what threats lurk where. Yet, Delane has own darker purpose for taking the mission.
Series: Alter Idem [108]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: Well of Souls

“Hey, Mr. Henry, sir," the uniformed soldier to Delane's right said to him. "I don't mean to be telling you your business, but are you sure that's how you want to infiltrate the perimeter?"

Delane Henry stood on the front of a Stryker combat vehicle to survey the nighttime cityscape, where no longer did electric lights brighten up its skyline or streets. He had taken off his suit coat, vest, and tie, but Delane still wore his purple dress shirt, slack, and even his Berluti Alessandro Demesure shoes. The leather looked more like a varnished wood of a CEOs desk, but to Delane they were perfect for the businessman on the go. His dreadlocks remained immaculate, and kept that way with gold caps.

"You're thinking something more business casual?" Delane asked, placing the back of his hand to the soldiers chest.

"If that's how you want to define urban camouflage," the soldier offered, "Then yeah, that's kinda what I'm saying, sir."

"I am dealing with very important people in there," Delane explained, "Appearance is essential."

"It was my understanding sir, that you were going in low profile," the soldier suggested in a way to actually be a reminder.

"Indeed," Delane agreed, and pointed behind himself. "So I will leave the robes, steel gauntlets and iron crown behind."

"We brought your sword as requested," the soldier said, and waved to another serviceman next to another Stryker. "You sure you don't want a rifle or sidearm?"

"I will make do without those," Delane assured, having never pried his gaze away from the city of Columbus.

Then, Delane placed one foot onto the cage bars around the vehicle and hopped off onto the ground six feet below. The soldier, more carefully climbed down and accepted the sheathed sword to then hand to Delane. Delane grabbed the sheath by the middle as though it were just an umbrella or cane.

Delane waved the sword handle end out toward the city edge, and declared in his chipper tone, "Ah, I see my associates are returning."

The soldier looked, but saw nothing. "I'll take your word for it, sir."

"Time to get crackin'," Delane said, and started off for Columbus.

"Good luck, sir," the soldier said, and then called through his helmet headset, "Hey, Simmons. Captain Grant here, tell the Black Hawks to pull back their flight perimeter to five kilometers. I want to make sure our IR illuminators aren't interfering with The Asset."

Other lights went out or darkened, while Delane walked on the road. After scores of yards further along, the company of his shoes tapping lightly on the asphalt, the dark lightened Delane's mood. He would occasionally skip to the side or made an extra toe-tap, which escalated into an all-out tap-dance number.

Delane opted to sing Sh-Boom by the Crew-Cuts.

"That man is one weird duck," Delane heard the soldier say, "Even for a voodoo priest and nightcrawler."

Little over half an hour later, and Delane was entering the seemingly abandoned city with dozens of spirits drifting around him. He knew the spell to make them visible for normal eyes, but Delane Henry always saw them, for they gave off a longer wavelength of infrared than anything around them, with a barely perceptible spark of ultraviolet at the core of their chained souls.

He had been informed by Zach, the Pentagon intelligence officer that civilians were evacuated, and so Delane had free reign to assume the worst of those left within the operational zone. Approaching and passing the first heaps of debris, and still burning flames of blue, Delane heard little. Atop one pile of rubble, Delane noticed a dog scratching around for whatever might scurry out to be lapped up.

At street intersections Delane pointed wordlessly into each of three directions, and he watched spirits drift ahead to search well before he got to the intersection himself. Some four crossroads later, Delane got a warning from the spirits.

Raising a finger to the back of his ear, Delane listened to the haunted whispers tell tales of another wayward wanderer in the streets. Looking for himself, Delane saw the person's body head glow, though they staggered with a hand to their neck.

The obvious assumption Delane had was that another vampire had taken from this unfortunate, but he was reluctant to assume before getting a better view. Whereas the living person stumbled down the middle of the street, Delane paced casually along the sidewalk. The gentle tap of his shoes got the other man's attention.

"Who's there?" the desperate voice asked.

Delane didn't answer, and kept strolling toward the man. He passed by a car burning from both supernatural and regular fire that cast fleeting light into his features. Even at that, Delane was sure the human... if indeed he was human, couldn't make out what Delane was.

"Hey," the man said, and pulled his hand away to look at it, very much disoriented. "I been burned."

"Let me have a look-see," Delane helpfully bid, approaching to stand before the man, and pulled the other's hand to remark, "A tattoo would've been easier."

"I didn't do this to myself," the man said, and then appeared to notice something. "Why're your hands so cold?"

"Oh, it's a mark," Delane noted, having brushed off the living man's inquiry. "Who did this to you?"

"Some people," the man answered, "They branded me for using technology. I just tried to fix a car to get out of here."

"Symbolic of antlers," Delane surmised from the stylized pattern of shallow burns into the skin. "Does the name Ladonna sound familiar?"

"Look dude," the man's voice quickened with alarm. "Those people're nuts. They're chasin' down anyone who don't get with their program."

"Do they know your name?" Delane posed while looking over the man.

"Yeah," the man nodded, and then developed a nervous itchy movement in his fingers.

"Tell me your name," Delane bid, having found shallow bite marks on the man's wrist. "With your name I can sooth your soul."

"Rodger Edelson," the man replied, with a growing look of caution.

"Rodger," Delane addressed him, while pulled a pouch from his front slacks pocket. "I will see you on the other side."

Flicking his thumb at the leather knot, Delane loosed the mouth of the pouch and then made an 'X' slashing motion that loosed powder onto the man's face. The last pinch, Delane poured into his own hand to blow into the living man's face.

In years past, Tetrodotoxin was the most important ingredient in the zombie powder of Voodoo tradition, however, when magic manifested into reality, Delane quickly seized on that fact and made it work for him. As before, its spell induced a seizure where the spasms increased to the point the body's muscles became rigid.

The man started to fall, stiff as a board, until Delane reached around behind the living man to catch him. "Easy there, Rodger. I will let no harm befall you so long as you abide by my rules."

Laying the man down, Delane knelt over him and waved gestures over his face. "I seek your soul, Rodger. I bestow upon you death, so that the flesh does not hinder the spirit. Rise from your body, Rodger."

An infrared ghost abstractly matching the physical form leaned up from the road. In the phantasmal apparition Delane saw abject terror. Yet, he continued to weave his hands around the ethereal form, as though to stroke and sooth the man's soul.

"There, there, Rodger," Delane whispered, "Now begin again. Tell me true, why did you not flee the first sight of me? Why remain in this place of conflict? Spill your secrets, Rodger."

Delane leaned close with his head turned, though no physical sound crossed the gap of body-less soul and his own undead ear. Nodding, Delane accepted new insights from Rodger, and once satisfied, bid the spirit to lay once more within where Rodger's inactive body remained.

"I will leave you here, Rodger," Delane chanted, "So that the vampires you swore fealty to may see you, as yet, unharmed. I task you with this message to be heard by them. Bar not my way, for I hold the keys to death and undeath. It is my toll spirits will pay to cross to the other side. Now sleep, you must Rodger."

With that, Delane stood and studied Rodger. His body remained warm, but no so much as before. Breathes came less than once every few minutes, and if Delane were to feel for a pulse he wouldn't find one easily. In this condition he would remain throughout the night. Long enough, Delane assumed no further trouble from Rodger.

Delane saw or heard other vampires about, over the next couple hours, but they gave him no complications. Maybe they didn't think a fellow undead would betray them by informing the army waiting outside the city.

One thing Delane could rule out, was any sense of kinship or loyalty of like-kind. This was because he felt none and most of the vampires he'd met in Cincinnati didn't appear to either. A few forged a mutual understanding or even communal living, but brotherhood? The general trend among those who spontaneously turned prevented any major alliance of vampires.

Spirits bound to Delane's service also brought news of the human purists. Their reporting explained why Delane himself never encountered any during his late night stroll. They were too afraid to fight the vampires at night, and were being roundly beaten by Gaia cultists in the day.

The sole reason why the purists gained any headway was in the weeks preceding organized resistance by supernaturals. A short-lived happy age that wasn't in any danger of returning before the army and National Guard made their move.

That left one faction of which, Delane still learned precious little. However, they were his primary reason for trading favors with Zach's agency. The Gaia Cult had acquired real power, and Delane wished to learn those secrets, even gain tutelage on its mastery.

From his indentured souls, Delane learned of where even the disembodied feared to tread; Scioto Audubon Metro Park. Spirits informed him of how their very essence was barred and brought to agony at the merest approach.

With that knowledge gleaned, Delane task the spirits to surround the park instead, and monitor the comings and goings of people. Though, at night few did, Delane saw as he drew near the park himself.

In the road ahead, he spotted two angels standing at an impromptu barricade. At Delane's distance from them, he knew they couldn't see him. Yet, they stood out in his sight as beacons in the dark. Beyond, passed the glow of many other people, even a couple giants, but no werewolves or vampires.

"That's the opening I need," Delane said aloud, as though his spirit servants hung on every word. "Unwise to refuse such superb senses."

Tilting his head in consideration, Delane then took off his twenty-two hundred dollar shoes and called a chained soul, "Randal, hang onto these, will you my brother. Try not to scuff the polish."

When Delane let go of his shoes they floated in air, allowing him to remove his socks and stuff them into the shoes. He then waved away as though to dismiss his ethereal subordinate.

Delane Henry desired most to make a strong first impression, but in this case that meant leaving no impression whatsoever. He picked up his sword, but left it in the scabbard, and trotted over to one of the buildings previously ripped open and skeletonized.

In an intact city, Delane would've considered scaling the wall and coming down behind his intended mark. Here, in Columbus that wasn't necessary. He stalked through the ruins of the structure interior with easily picked steps of bare feet.

Ambient starlight, firelight, and residual heat from all surfaces allowed Delane to spot rubble and broke ground as surely as with a halogen lamp in every corner of every room. Windows shattered, and doors burned down, made his access from room to room all the less difficult.

At last, he was outside again, but this time standing some eight feet behind the two guardian angels. What he would do next was rude by his own standards, but a deal was a deal. An agreement for which this deed was required to fulfill.

The sword still sheathed, he rammed the pommel hard against the back of the neck of one angel, and then slammed it into the temple of the next. With his strength, the blows proved terminally debilitating on the first and outright lethal for the second.

Delane knelt down, to hear-- and relish, the uncontrolled last breath of the first angel he downed. With fascination, he watched the angel's panicked eyes search for reason to why he could no longer move or breathe.

"I grant you death," Delane promised the dying angel. "And will make way for your journey to the other side. Good tidings."

Once past the building ruins, Delane saw that most of the park was fairly open, which was both good and bad. For him, it meant spotting heat blooms from afar, however, should an errant source of light be cast his way, Delane himself would stand out for being the only undead trodding the inner sanctum of Ladonna's back-to-nature movement.

Delane jogged between trees, and reached the red water tower with Metro Park painted on the side. From there he took up a casual stroll, for dashing in the dark when no one should have need to do so, would quickly draw attention.

What caught Delane's interest was the climbing wall. The larger multi-arched wall formed an eighth circle curve around a small stone that had been converted into an alter with a massive bronze bowl laid atop it.

Curious, Delane held his hand over where ritual fires must've burned. "Powerful conjuring here. I feel you, Ladonna. You are strong."

Exploring further, he found the covered benches and park buildings where cult members made their home. Delane made sure to give those a wide berth, however, he was compelled to approach the wood walkway with a red colored path. Here, he felt Ladonna's astral footprint more than any physical sign.

Yet, there was another strong spirit whose trail still glided along the path. A younger woman and human. From growing intrigue, Delane wandered the walkway, to eventually uncover a small body of water.

Delane needed no intel file to know this was a place of power and ritual. Here, the younger human woman was infused with rites that bestowed her beyond mere practice and training. Others had been similarly subjected to a ritual bath, but her submersion left the greatest mark. A more recent presence swelled elsewhere close by.

"Your boldness shouldn't surprise me, fiend," a woman said from behind Delane.

Turning, he found a face and antler rack he knew well from the photo, and waved to himself. "Papa Delane Henry. I am thrilled to make your acquaintance."

"Did they send you?" Ladonna demanded, folding her arms and placing one hoof out into a stance of displeasure.

Admitting to being caught, but happy for it, Delane smiled and shrugged. "We throw each other work now and then."

"You talk like them," Ladonna scolded, "All about business, money, and the other venoms of the modern way. That you've turned into this unholy defiance of nature only makes sense. For, that's what they all are in their heart of hearts. Abominations, neither dead nor truly alive."

"Your spell with the drones is rather clever," Delane praised, "My compliments to the crafting. Is there, per chance, an opportunity I may learn?"

"Always the deal-maker," Ladonna seethed.

"A deal, for which there are no better offers," Delane assured, and took an elaborate bow with arms outstretched.

"Is that sword for me if I refuse?" Ladonna demanded, eyeing it with distaste showing all over her features.

"I've already made the most use that I had thought it necessary," Delane alluded, and set it down at his own feet. "Instead, I have this."

Delane raised his hands as if to surrender, but flicked his wrist just a bit. From elsewhere, came a whoosh of air through a tube. Ladonna jumped at a sharp pain in her neck that she reached for. From there, she withdrew a dart, and turned to see the source but never cast her eyes on it.

Rather, she started to spasm, as Rodger Edelson had, and collapsed into an increasingly firm unmoving heap. Delane stepped up to her, but wasn't the only pair of feet to close the distance.

Standing at knee level by his side was a doll fashioned from wood and wire, with strips of irregular cloth for clothes. Where string was tied there was included hair within the knots. The rat fetish that Zach brought from the Pentagon, wasn't Delane's most sophisticated fetish brought to life with a bound spirit, not by a long shot.

It was within a fetish that was the only way one of Delane's indentured souls could enter the perimeter, and even that wasn't a sure fact to Delane until it made it inside the park. Yet, it dutifully advanced within the Gaia Cult's central grounds as Delane Henry did and awaited his gesture to have the power of breath to blow the dart out of the tube.

Hitting its intended mark, Delane turned Ladonna's head to one side to see the puncture mark into her carotid artery, and spoke to Ladonna. "My beautiful fawn, I too comply with natural order. A paradigm where the notion of harmony and balance depends on death and darkness as assuredly as life and light."

Delane hitched up his right pant leg to reveal a ritual knife that he unsheathed, and held it before Ladonna's affixed sight. "You see, dearest Ladonna, it would be inconsiderate to have you felled by any random tongue of steel and flame. This precious edge carries more value and purpose in my craft. And through it, I will bring you to the other side in my service."

Getting right to work, Delane studied Ladonna's face for the entire vivisection. He started with her arms and legs by touch alone, lest his eyes waver from hers. Next, he started on her entrails. Lastly, came out her heart, deftly cut away and removed before beating its final rhythm in his hands.

Through it all, Delane witnessed in Ladonna's eyes, the exiting of her soul into the jar he fashioned specially for the occasion. For, someone as powerful as this Fae elder, no mere container would do, and never so completely.

Unlike with most indentured souls, Delane required Ladonna's skull, that her power be captured as well as her knowledge. He carefully cut away skin, muscle, and sinew, and with still a couple hours before dawn, had his prize in hand.

As to the greater wellspring of power, Delane had no time to ferret out. Instead, he worked he way out of the park, much same way as he came in. Though, not before stashing Ladonna's remains in an empty building that he would later declare to the military force as her headquarters.

One Hellfire Missile from a drone would burn and scatter the remnants of her physical form enough that none would guess her fate at the hands of Papa Delane Henry. A true avatar of death if ever there was one.


End file.
